"But he who dares not grasp the thorn Should never crave the rose." ― Anne Brontë All men must die. All roses must wilt. There is a streak of wildness behind steel eyes. Two distinctly Stark features, yet they belong to Anya Whent. She may have been born a Southern lady, but it's the blood of the North that runs through her veins. A runaway at the tender age of ten, the girl was raised among Lord Rickard's children. Alongside Brandon, Eddard, and Benjen she trained, with Lyanna she learned. Behind a fair face are a kind heart, gentle soul, and a beast. A beast that takes a Hound to tame it. Westeros is a cruel land. Deception lies around every corner, danger in each careless step. A game is being played among the highborn lords and self-proclaimed kings, a game which kills all. As the threat of a multifaceted war looms overhead people come to see the legitimacy of the Stark's words. Winter is coming.